Improbable
by HedwigBlack
Summary: Romania is great and everything you imagined it would be. Until she happened. For Nayla


_This is for my darling Nayla who is hilarious and I love her and I hope she doesn't hate me for taking so long. Eeek! ily_

* * *

"How's Romania?"

It's the first thing everyone asks. It's as if the only thing they know how to ask you is what it's like to be so far away as if you represent everything Romania has to offer. They smile and study the burn marks on your arms with interest but instead of mentioning them they stick to that same question for lack of a better idea. It's just as bad as asking about the weather in your opinion. It's just another 'safe' topic to fill the awkward silence.

Sometimes you entertain yourself by coming up with witty responses to the question, but in the end it's always something that could be boiled down to "Great!" Or if you are in a mood to be cheeky you simply say "Cold."

And it _is_ great. (And cold.) It's the freedom you never had at home. You're on your own, with your dragons and your friends to keep you sane and no one to tell you off for not being careful. You work hard and you love every second and it's exactly how you always imagined it would be.

And then _she_ happened to you.

And you say she _happened to_ you because you never would have expected this and you certainly never considered the possibility. You're not the type to settle down, or so you've always believed. But Katie Bell has a way of being improbable without meaning to be. She doesn't like to live up to other people's expectations. In fact, she tries very hard not to.

And she never asks how Romania is.

Instead she wants to know about dragons and what breed is your favorite and what it's like to have somewhere to belong. She's a professional Quidditch player but she says it's more like being a professional homeless person and most of the time it suits her. She's never in one place for long, and every couple of weeks she's itching to move on and her suitcase is never truly empty. And there have been a few times when you want to tell her that she has a place to belong with you, but you suppose it won't make a difference. Why would it?

You stand in the doorway and watch her as she begins to pack her things. She has a series of Quidditch matches coming up and she can't stay here. You know she'll most likely find a temporary home on a friend's couch or the flat she shares with Leanne.

Her hands twitch as she reaches for a Weasley sweater she's made a habit of stealing whenever she comes to stay. You don't mind mostly because you think it's hideous but also because you are convinced it means she has a reason to come back. You try to ignore the ache inside your chest, the inexplicable feeling of missing someone who is still right in front of you, and admire the way she bites her lip and looks about for more of her belongings. She does everything by hand; she's too independent for her own good and she thinks using magic for everything is lazy and _Merlin, you love her don't you?_

And you can't say no one warned you that this would happen. They all said you'd fall eventually but you didn't expect to fall this hard. And the worst of it is you're still bracing yourself for the impact. You don't know how you know this, but you do. You suspect it will happen when she's gone.

You move from your place in the doorway, capturing her attention. She grins and you pull her against your chest and consider how to persuade her to stay just one more night as if one more night will make the next one less painful. As if tomorrow night will somehow be a more convenient day to say goodbye.

"Katie…"

She looks at you expectantly, green eyes alight. And her hands somehow find their way into yours- something that still amazes you because you know you are the only person she would ever let hold her hands at all. If you try you can feel the thin scars that run across her palms and you lace your fingers with hers.

"I miss you," you say, and it's not exactly what you mean.

"I haven't gone anywhere yet," she says cheekily.

"I know. But I still miss you."

She opens her mouth to make another sarcastic remark, but you cut her off by pressing your lips to hers. You savor the familiar taste of coffee on her skin and you can feel her smile which makes you think perhaps you are being stupid.

She pulls away and gives you a knowing look. "I'll be back, you know," she says.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know."

She goes to grab her suitcase and her broomstick and you try to help her to do the door, but of course, she doesn't let you. She kisses you hard before she leaves, and you stay in the doorway as you watch her walk away. And while you adore the fact that she's doing what she loves and she's willing to take the bad with the good, you have to admit you're a little bit sick of looking at the back of her head.

And if anyone were to ask you how Romania is now, you would probably still say it's great. But if you were to be honest, what you'd really mean is lonely.


End file.
